warriorsfanficfandomcom-20200213-history
The crazy psycho killer with a chainsaw and a hook (Snowfall)
The crazy psycho killer with a chainsaw and a hook Part seven, Mission Two of Snowfall. Apologies for the long title. :P Attached is another poem. I lash my tail onto the bed as Sparkles begins to read. First clue out of three if you want to find me, On New Year’s this is where you want to be. My chainsaw won’t be heard over the crowd, As I uphold hat I have vowed. “Do a quick google search on things to do in the New Year in Manhattan,” orders Sparkles to Amy. “And yes, you can use my phone.” Amy grins and starts tapping wildly. “A common one is Times Square: really busy this time of year and great for New Year’s Eve.” “Then let’s get some rest and we’ll head there first thing tomorrow,” purrs Sparkles. I roll onto my side. Amsterdam hops up onto the bed and settles down beside me. “I don’t want to puke on you,” I mutter. “Go away.” “And I wish you sweet dreams too,” he grins. “G’night.” I watch as he falls asleep beside me. Shrugging, I do the same. It’s been a long day, and it’ll be an even longer one tomorrow. Times Square is busy. Like, really ''busy. We dart through legs and litter, trying to get a good view of the place. A loud whirring can be heard nearby. “Is that…?” I trail off, and suddenly a large silver blade skids towards us small but deadly. We scatter in different directions as the mini chainsaw veers left and right, like it’s remote-controlled. It probably is. “It’s just trying to scare us off,” I mutter as I wander aimlessly through a forest of legs. A foot comes into accidental contact with my hindquarters and I roll not the floor. “Oh sugar…” I mouth as I notice the chainsaw heading right for my neck. The spikes glint menacingly. I try to get up. But why can’t I get up? Sparkles swore harshly as she saw no sight of the others. “God damn that chainsaw…” She ran through her head the things to do when you’re lost in a city. Being shorter than humans, cats couldn’t just jump up and down and search for a fellow person’s head. Her closely-gathered thoughts broke apart and scattered as she was almost flattened by a bicycle. Get to a high place, get to a high place… But with the billboards and high buildings, it was impossible to climb without sinking her claws into an electronic screen. The best chance was a building dividing the main road into two separate ones. She weaved her way to it and managed to scramble a bit up the glass wall of one before sliding back down. ''Forget this, ''she spat silently. ''I’ll just yowl and see what’ll happen. She opened her mouth and began to yowl. It was daytime, but Amsterdam absorbed the bright neon signs as if it was at night. The commotion fascinated him. He belonged in the city, with the constant sense of danger and the most amazing things on every corner. His senses heightened. The chainsaw was still near, but still far at the same time. He had to be careful. “Snowpaw!” he called out. Well, that definitely wasn’t being careful. The chainsaw veered into view. Amsterdam screamed and threw himself onto the nearest object. He slammed onto the windscreen of a taxi, feeling the air rush out of him. The driver screamed and sharply steered, knocking Amsterdam off the car and rolling onto the ground. He regained focus soon enough to see the taxi crash into a building dividing the street. He squinted and saw a cream cat leap just out of reach. “Sparkles!” he gasped. “Thank god she wasn’t killed!” He sprang to his feet and raced towards the crash site, not caring that he was knocking over several people along the way. Amy whipped a pistol out of her satchel. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she murmured. No humans had noticed the pistol - it was disguised as a tube of lipstick. Cats never used makeup; but it laid off suspicion if she ever had to get searched. A yellow-brown thing flashed in and out of her sight. Amy fired a few quick rounds. She widened her eyes in alarm as cries of pain rang through the air. Amy swore and dropped the pistol. She had to get out of Times Square, and fast. The sound becomes fainter and fainter, until I finally get the courage to open my eyes. I’m still lying here on the ground, still hurting from when I was kicked. I roll over onto my side and take a good look around. A car had just crashed into a building and I decide to investigate. My vision is blurred and I’m feeling queasy, but I still trudge on. An ambulance pulls up, and a few twolegs lie on the ground with bullet wounds in their legs. First a chainsaw is hunting us down, then there’s a car crash out of nowhere and now some people have been shot. And to make it even more scary, an unseen cat starts screaming through a megaphone: “Cats of FROST, come claim your cash, for I have stolen your valuable stash. Little Snowpaw may have heard of me, for I am the mate of who tormented thee.” Pi had a mate? ''was the first thing that comes into my head. ''And I killed him… so this cat wants revenge! She’s stolen our lottery winnings so we could become bait, and now she’s going to kill me… but who exactly is she? As I approach the crash site, I spot Sparkles and Amsterdam, shocked but unhurt. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” I gasp in delight. “I know a bit more about the stalker now.” Sparkles’ ears perk up. “You do?” “Yeah! This cat is Pi’s mate. I killed him and brought chaos into The Hidden, so this cat stole our money to make us become bait, then led us to Orlando and now New York. She’s behind all the near-death stuff we’ve been through in the past few days.” “But do you know her name?” Amsterdam asks. “No; but I’ve heard of her before, in my first mission. I managed to trace Pi’s phone calls once and I remember her voice, but her name just doesn’t come to mind.” “Then we’d better find Amy and get out of here,” huffs Sparkles. She strides away from the crash site, but freezes as the cat screeches out a clue: “Two out of three, if you want to find me: The city’s heart, but in landscape they’re apart.” “This cat has such a way with words,” sighs Sparkles. “Suppose this is Central Park, again?” I bound up to her. “Maybe this time we’ll get to see Tokyo and America again.” “We’ll see,” chuckles the stalker’s voice across the crowd. “But hopefully I haven’t got to them first.” Central Park is as crowded as ever, and we’re panting as we reach America and Tokyo’s home. “Amsterdam?” screams Tokyo, her voice muffled. “Help!” I look up. Tokyo and America are tied to trees, with gags around their mouths and knife blades strapped to their throat. “I’ll get them,” I volunteer. Climbing up Tokyo’s tree is easy, and my claws slice off the gag. “Did you see who did this to you?” “A yellowish-brown cat,” she says. “She went west.” “Did she tell you to pass on a message or anything?” “She told me a rhyme: Three out of three if you want to find me, I am on top of the Statue of Liberty.” “That’s not a clue at all,” huffs Amsterdam. “That’s just the answer!” I slide down the tree, followed by Tokyo. “And the answer is what we need,” I snap back. Sparkles unties America and the queen bristles. “You’re not taking my daughter, ever,” she spits. “You made a promise,” Sparkles points out. Her phone rings from inside a pocket on her standard collar. “Amy!” she squeals. “Where are you? LaGuardia Airport, okay. We’ll be there by this evening, latest.” “So we head to the Statue of Liberty?” I ask. “Duh,” says Amsterdam, rolling his eyes. “Come on mom and Tokyo, you’ll just wait at the bottom while Sparkles, Snowpaw and I take down this loony.” America grunts but follows us out of Central Park. “You’re taking me back home straight after,” she demands. “Yes ma’am,” salutes Sparkles. “After coming back and saying goodbye, I’ll take Tokyo and Amsterdam to the Airport. You’ll see them in about five months time. Now how do we get to the Statue of Liberty?” America and Tokyo hang around the entrance of the stone base of the Statue of Liberty. The boat journey where we snuck on the back was cramped, but now that we had arrived at our destination, we could finally stretch our legs. “Don’t get yourselves killed,” says Tokyo as she touches muzzles with her brother. “I want you to survive so we can be spies together.” “I’ll try,” purrs Amsterdam. “Are you ready?” calls Sparkles over the wind. “If we climb up this truck and onto the white tent, we can leap onto the base and climb our way up.” “I’m ready, gimme a sec,” hollers Amsterdam back. I allow my mind to drift off, into a time where I was sitting in a cupboard, playing phone calls over and over again. “Sigma, did you see the newcomer at FROST a few days ago?” Sigma. The cat’s name was Sigma. “Sparkles,” I meow, “I know the cat’s name.” “You do?” “Sigma. Her name is Sigma.”